


Military Service

by deaddoh



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Tags/Rating subject to change, probably some death, will tag as it goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 13:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18639205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deaddoh/pseuds/deaddoh
Summary: the italized is the past





	Military Service

**Author's Note:**

> the italized is the past

_Jack watched in horror as his father falls to his knees, the old rifle landing with a heavy thud next to him. “Pa! Don’t push yourself,” he says, rushing over. “But duty calls,” his father protests as Jack helps him stand again. Jack looks his father in the face, “You don’t have to go. I can go for you.”_

_Jack’s father smiles sadly, “No. You’re the last of the McLoughlins.” Jack rolls his eyes helping his father into the nearby bed. “That doesn’t matter Pa.” Jack’s father’s eyebrows furrow, looking like one long fuzzy caterpillar. “Yes it does Sean! The McLoughlins have been around for centuries.” Jack cringes, his real name never used. “But Pa, my brothers and sisters are still alive.”_  

_“Still, you’re the last one left in this original home.”_

 

<+>

 

Mark huffs, slouching deeply in his chair as he tries to tie his necktie. His mother looks over and smiles to herself, already missing him. “Need help?” She asks, toweling her hands. Mark huffs again and lets the failed tie fall against his neck, “Yeah.” 

She walks over and undoes the mess, holding one end in each hand. “Watch,” she says. Mark watches his mother’s deft fingers move the cloth like it were a part of her. Up and over. Down and around. Until the once useless cloth now sits in a proud bow. Mark smiles up at his mother, feeling a deep ache in his chest.

“I’m really gonna miss you,” he says, feeling tears come.

“Me too darling. Me too.”

 

<+>

 

_Jack sees his father sleeping peacefully, as he quietly takes the uniform from the open closet. He leaves the rifle, too old to be of actual use in new age warfare._

_Jack scribbles a note, apologizing. He stands in the kitchen in the uniform, looking like a soldier heading to the front. He checks his backpack before heading out._

_He gently closes the front door, seeing the sun rise and feeling a quiet pride work its way into his bones. He pulls on his helmet and starts up his motorcycle._

 

<+>

 

Mark is nervous, sitting between two huge soldiers in a bouncing car. “So, you’re General Fischbach’s son?” The soldier on the right asks, not turning to face Mark. Mark nods, “Yes.”

The soldier on the left huffs, “Oh c’mon Finch, of course he’s General’s son. Just looks at ’em.”

Right soldier rolls his eyes, “Just being respectful October.”

“Was da-Fischbach just a general?” Mark asks meekly, his father unwilling to open up about his military work in fear that his sons would want to become like him. Left soldier relaxes, slinging an arm across Mark’s shoulders. “He was an Admiral too. Well respected and deserved. He didn’t tell you nothin’?” Left asks, his southern accent prominent.

Right soldier picks up left’s arm and filings it back over left, “He was well decorated. Having clawed his way to the top.” Right says, ridgid like a wooden board. “Kiddo, you can call General your father. That’s what he was to you.” Left says comfortingly.

Mark nods, “I’m not a kid. I’m the same age as you.”

Right and left both look surprised, “You’re twenty-nine?” Right asks, breaking his tough guy face. Mark nods.

Left laughs, “Damn! McLoughlin owes me!”

 

<+>

 

“You’re Sean McLoughlin?” The guard asks, his eyebrows raised in questioning. Jack nods, “In the flesh.”

The guard shrugs and huffs, “Well shit. Welcome to the LA Air Force Base.” Jack nods and rides his motorcycle in, seeing a nice car pull in from another entrance. He pauses and watches a group of soldiers crowd around it. He sees the doors open and three men step out, two are soldiers and the third is dressed formally, bowtie, collared button down, dress shoes, and pants. The two soldiers escort the third away from the other soldiers and the dar drives away.

 

<+>

 

Mark sighs, changing out of his cloths. The stiff shirt too stuffy. He picks up the clothes from the soldiers, feeling the coarse fabric. He quickly pulls it on, immediately feeling better.

Mark walks out of the tent, seeing a lean, pale soldier talking with left from the car ride. He walks over and left sees him and waves him over. “McLoughlin you fuckin’ owe me.” Left says with a laugh.

Whoever he is, McLoughlin is definitely eye catching. Pale, lean, and with a foreign accent. “So General Fischbach’s kid is as old as we are? Crazy,” he says, eyeing Mark like a hawk to an unsuspecting meal. “Yeah. It seems like just yesterday General was talking about his tenth birthday.”

Mark smiles, “You heard my last name on the way here, but I’m Ezra. Ezra October. And the other guy with me was Tyler. Tyler Finch.” Ezra says. “And this guy,” he gestures to McLoughlin, “is the sharpest fuckin’ shooter we have here. World’s best dog fighter.”

McLoughlin waves away the compliment, “You don’t gotta call me by my last name. I’m Sean. But Jack preferably.” Mark nods, sticking his hand out. “I’m Mark Fischbach. General Fischbach’s only military oriented son.” Mark jokes, assuming that they’ve heard about Tom.

Both Ezra and Jack laugh, putting Mark at ease. “But yeah, how is Tom doing?” Ezra asks, crossing his arms and leaning against a decommissioned Jeep. “He’s alright, working well in his little bubble of creativity.”

Jack nods, still eyeing Mark.

**Author's Note:**

> so jack, he leaves his home England to LA as a teen, the italized. but the not italized is current, he's 29.
> 
> (and yes, the title is supposed to be like that, just... figure it out)


End file.
